bridget martin

For a few weeks we have been living on dry land in a borrowed camper van whilst we carried out some maintenance on our boat (wooden boats need a lot of maintenance!). It’s been five weeks of sanding, painting, varnishing, leak investigating and various jobs below the waterline. Last Friday however our boat was lifted back into the water and and we began our return journey down the river. It is good to be back in the place on the water that we call home.

As I write the light is fading and it is raining again. The wind has eased though and the boat is calm. October appeared and then disappeared just as quickly, the clocks have been turned back and now we move towards winter. Inevitably there will be fewer opportunities to work outside or in the wheelhouse (the place where I keep my tiny, moveable ‘studio’) and so I will find a corner inside the boat where I can work.

This new ‘studio’ will still be moveable. It will need to wander and migrate because our living space is small and compromises need to be made. This is not a problem however, because not only is small beautiful, it also forces us to focus and make difficult choices. It challenges and suggests a different way of thinking.

When it comes to making art I find placing constraints on myself to be extremely useful in guiding my work. I don’t do well with too much choice. Therefore a small work space, a limited colour palette, fewer materials and a smaller substrate can be an interesting and positive experience. It somehow enables me to cut out the background noise and focus on what is important. It simplifies things.

And so returning and finding the space again, both within and without, is a wonderful thing. A space to think and ponder, to wander and wonder, to dream and imagine, to work in and play in, to make mistakes and a mess in. A space to be myself. Small needn’t limit or restrict. It can liberate and offer unforeseen possibility. It might be just what we need. It might just be enough.